


Sub Rosa

by MacFarlinsane



Category: Actor RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - Dark, Alternate Universe - Noir, Angst, Angst and Fluff and Smut, Crimes & Criminals, Dark, Detective Noir, Film Noir, Los Angeles, Multi, Organized Crime, Suspense, Swearing, Threats of Rape/Non-Con, Threats of Violence, Thriller, Violence, Yakuza
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-08-13
Updated: 2013-08-13
Packaged: 2017-12-23 09:57:13
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,919
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/924990
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MacFarlinsane/pseuds/MacFarlinsane
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sub Rosa. A noir style story set in the heart of Los Angeles where crime and corruption is on every corner and dangerous people stalk the seedy, neon-lit back streets.</p>
<p>Seth McAlvain (Seth MacFarlane) is a Private Investigator and sings in the Cerulean Lounge on his nights off. When he starts looking for a waitress who works there, Mila Kulas (Mila Kunis), who disappeared a few nights back, he comes to the unwanted attentions of a man (Tom Hardy) who runs one of the biggest and most shocking money making businesses in the Los Angeles crime underworld.</p>
<p>When Seth realises that this operation reaches way beyond the criminals of the city, and extends into the pockets and participations of some of the most powerful people in LA, he must do everything he can, using his old friends on the outside and new ones he must make on the inside, to stay Sub Rosa, or "beneath the Rose" to find Mila and expose the corrupt individuals involved.</p>
<p>But all is easier said and done when he must keep his cover intact and the most dangerous man in LA is watching his every move for the slightest sign of disloyalty, Seth will realise just how fragile his friends lives and his own life really is.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> All the actors featured in this story are not playing themselves, they are playing characters that I have written for them. They have the same physical appearance as the actors, unless stated otherwise in the story and some elements from their personalities seen in interviews etc. have been added to the characters they are playing, but as a whole, the characters (and appearances in some cases) have been largely exaggerated. 
> 
> The story, plots, elements and characters are making no statements about the actors themselves. This is purely for entertainment purposes and have no reflections whatsoever on the actors and actresses that are featured. I am not making any money off of this story and the original characters (which will be listed in the notes before each chapter) belong to myself, the author.
> 
> I hope you all enjoy this story. Please feel free to leave feedback as it is much appreciated and needed. Thank you!

** Sub Rosa **

Prologue

_“Finish him off. This insubordination can’t go unpunished. He needs to be made an example of.”_

_The deep, gravelly voice floated out from within the shadows, almost as if the darkness itself was speaking. The British accent was as thick as the atmosphere that hung in the air, both laden heavily with a very raw and present tone of danger._

_The sobbing and shaking victim lay in the foetal position on the floor, the blood from the beating he had just been given staining the concrete with a crimson that was almost black in the dim light. His split lip and broken nose were an angry red and his left eye had been forced shut by the deep purple bruise that was now settling itself over the lid._

_The_ click _and_ flick _noise signified a lighter being opened and was confirmed by the amber flame that sprung upwards from the metal, giving the silver material and the hand holding it a soft, orange glow._

_The lighter was brought up to the cigarette which was held by a set of full, defined lips which were now also illuminated by the flame. A_ hiss _slithered forth as the mouth took a long drag and the smoke followed as smoothly as the voice before it had done out of the darkness and then vanishing into the air._

_Another_ click _and the glow was extinguished, casting the figure into shadow once more._

_The victim managed to raise his head, wincing at the excruciating pain this simple action caused. He looked up through his one good eye at the man who loomed over him, the man who was aiming a gun at his head._

_“Please...” the victim choked out, his voice hoarse and raw with desperation and terror. “... Please, d-don’t kill... me. My-my... mother.” He coughed violently, blood springing from his lips and painting the concrete with tiny splatters. “Mother...”_

_The victim fell into a deep state of unconsciousness, his body going limp._

_The man holding the gun wished the boy would have just died. It would have been a mercy, and he wouldn’t have to do what he was being told to do now._

_Footsteps echoed off the walls and approached him, the footfalls sounding like the toll of a death clock slowly counting its way down. He didn’t want to look at the figure that now stopped and stood beside him, shoulders touching, his space being intruded far more than it should be._

_He could feel the intense stare of those hard green eyes burning into the side of his face, studying for any signs of weakness, hesitation and lack of loyalty._

_It took all the resolve he had not to flinch when he felt the hand heavy on his right shoulder, as if it was a weight that wouldn’t be lifted until he did what he had to do._

_The hand slowly slid to behind his neck and rested there, then tightened in a gesture that was dominant, possessive and left no room for argument._

_He felt the figure leaning closer, those full lips less than an inch away from his left ear. He felt the warm breath tickling his skin and the voice that he dreaded, that he feared and that angered him each time he heard it whispered in a calm yet demanding tone..._

_“Kill him.”_

_As the hand on the back of his neck squeezed even tighter, he felt his own finger begin to squeeze the trigger and he had to keep reminding himself why he was doing this._

_He realised with horror that his hand that was holding the gun hadn’t shaken throughout this whole ordeal. And as his finger got ever tighter, as that deafening shot got ever closer to erupting, Seth McAlvain closed his eyes and felt the last shred of his humanity begin to slip away._


	2. Chapter One

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sub Rosa. A noir style story set in the heart of Los Angeles where crime and corruption is on every corner and dangerous people stalk the seedy, neon-lit back streets.
> 
> Seth McAlvain (Seth MacFarlane) is a Private Investigator and sings in the Cerulean Lounge on his nights off. When he starts looking for a waitress who works there, Mila Kulas (Mila Kunis), who disappeared a few nights back, he comes to the unwanted attentions of a man (Tom Hardy) who runs one of the biggest and most shocking money making businesses in the Los Angeles crime underworld.
> 
> When Seth realises that this operation reaches way beyond the criminals of the city, and extends into the pockets and participations of some of the most powerful people in LA, he must do everything he can, using his old friends on the outside and new ones he must make on the inside, to stay Sub Rosa, or "beneath the Rose" to find Mila and expose the corrupt individuals involved.
> 
> But all is easier said and done when he must keep his cover intact and the most dangerous man in LA is watching his every move for the slightest sign of disloyalty, Seth will realise just how fragile his friends lives and his own life really is.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> All the actors featured in this story are not playing themselves, they are playing characters that I have written for them. They have the same physical appearance as the actors, unless stated otherwise in the story and some elements from their personalities seen in interviews etc. have been added to the characters they are playing, but as a whole, the characters (and appearances in some cases) have been largely exaggerated.
> 
> The story, plots, elements and characters are making no statements about the actors themselves. This is purely for entertainment purposes and have no reflections whatsoever on the actors and actresses that are featured. I am not making any money off of this story and the original characters (which will be listed in the notes before each chapter) belong to myself, the author.
> 
> I hope you all enjoy this story. Please feel free to leave feedback as it is much appreciated and needed. Thank you!
> 
> Chapter One Characters:  
> Seth McAlvain - Seth MacFarlane  
> Christoph Wollf - Christoph Waltz  
> Asano Tadeshi - Asano Tadanobu  
> Jerry Langley - O/C

** Sub Rosa **

Chapter One

Christoph Wollf despised humanity.

 

He despised what liars humans were. He despised the corrupt men of the world; painting on false smiles to the people they were lying to, whilst behind those dead eyes their minds were crawling with a dark substance that was motivated purely by greed and a thirst for more power.

 

He despised, no, _loathed_ the cowards of the earth too. Cowards like the ones he was watching now. Ordinary Joe Blogg’s and John Doe’s, crawling about the place like ants. All of them just drinking, eating, paying, slaving and fucking their way through their existence. Not even working together the way ants do to survive, each and every one of them only out for themselves.

 

And that’s just what they were to Christoph Wollf, _ants._ Insignificant insects that he could crush any time he wanted to. All of them chained to their ordinary and boring every day working lives, none of them having the balls to break away from the dull monotony of their routines and just taking what they wanted from life. It was these kinds of people he hated the most, people who were just puppets on a string to the corrupt and corrupted.

 

Corrupt puppeteers just like the man sitting next to him right now. The man he was trying not to sit too close to as his very presence disgusted and enraged him, but a presence he must tolerate because the master puppeteer he worked for was needed on side to keep their business protected and to keep all of them comfortably wealthy.

 

Although Christoph’s main motivation in life was money, he was _nothing_ like the man next to him who was now babbling on incessantly about some rich dummies country club he and his boss were at a few days back and laughing so loudly that Christoph felt like breaking his jaw. He was so far from this idiot and he would kill anybody who said otherwise.

 

Yes, it was true that Christoph enjoyed money and the finer luxuries in life that it could buy very much. But what made him different from the corrupt low life that had now quietened down and was finally listening to what the man Christoph had came with, Asano Tadeshi, had to say, was that he didn’t lie through his teeth about the kind of man he was.

 

Christoph made no excuses for the fact that he had killed more men than he could count. He freely admitted to himself and was at peace with the fact that he had broken laws, disposed of bodies, stolen more money and gems than perhaps any other man had done in his life and made money off of illegal activities. But he was _honest_ about it. At least to himself, the men he worked with and the corrupt officials who thought he worked for them but in fact it was the other way around.

 

He wasn’t a slave to the American dollar or the system like all of the working folks who weren’t really living at all. And he _certainly_ didn’t pretend he was a good man and try to convince himself and others of it. He was a murderous bastard who enjoyed what he did, but at least he had no problem looking in the mirror every day.

 

Christoph snapped his head to the left violently when a hand tapped him hard on the shoulder, to find himself staring into the beaming, inane grin of the imbecile next to him.

 

“I said would you like another drink Wollf? Your glass is bone dry!” said Jerry Langley in his nasally voice that made Chrisoph’s head hurt.

 

Christoph looked at his empty glass and had a highly satisfying mental image of smashing that glass right into Langley’s face, silencing that irritating voice and laugh for a long while.

 

The very thought relaxed him a little bit and he managed a warm smile and a friendly tone, “Please Jerry,” he said, his Austrian accent still very much present but his English as perfect as a native speaker, “just a glass of ice water would be fine.” He made a mental note to wash his suit jacket thoroughly when he got home.

 

Langley nodded, his small head bobbing up and down on his thin and stick-like neck.

 

“And how about you Mr Tadeshi, another saké for you?” Langley snorted with laughter at the same pathetic excuse for a joke he made every time they met.

 

Christoph watched Asano Tadeshi carefully. He knew that Asano had three knives on his person, two, one strapped to each ankle, and one butterfly knife in his inside pocket along with a machine pistol being carried in the back of his trouser waistband.

 

He knew that Asano was probably itching to use them, the knives more so than the gun, and Langley knew this too. Jerry Langley knew that his constant jibes at Tadeshi’s Japanese ethnicity, despite him having lived in Los Angeles for ten years now, irritated Tadeshi beyond belief.

 

Langley also knew that the Japanese born Asano had been a yakuza ever since the age of eighteen, growing up as a part of one of the biggest syndicates, or families, in Japan. He also knew about Asano’s skill and reputation with a knife and his penchant and lust for violence and mayhem.

 

Such a man who knew all of this information yet still goaded a man like Tadeshi would be viewed as foolish and reckless beyond belief. But such a man as Langley, who worked for such a man as his boss, believed that they were untouchable and that as always, they were holding all of the strings.

 

Asano Tadeshi smiled, the scar below his lip that ran down the length of his chin stretching as he did so, and the scar that ran above and below his right eye creasing as his cheeks lifted.

 

Despite the marks on his face, they didn’t mar the yakuza’s appearance. They gave his already handsome face character, further enhancing his rugged features. With his thick, jet black hair that he never bothered brushing but always looking like it had been professionally styled and his closely cut goatee that continued up his jaw line, paired with the perfectly pressed black suit that he was wearing and the smile that could charm anyone, he was every bit as good looking as he was dangerous.

 

To Christoph, who had known Asano for ten years knew that smile said, _you may think I can’t get to you now, but wait until we don’t need you or your boss anymore. Then I’ll get you, and I’ll take my time when I do._

“Just a scotch will do Mr Langley,” Asano replied, his accent a mix of Japanese and American that blended together smoothly. “... _Kisama.”_

 

“Excuse me?” asked Langley, who had begun to turn away but stopped when he heard the Japanese remark.

 

Christoph had to stop himself from smirking, watching Asano with amusement.

 

The yakuza smiled so politely that it was almost sickening, “I do apologise Mr Langley. I assumed that your knowledge of the Japanese language was vast, as you do like to demonstrate every time we meet. If you don’t understand the word _kisama_ I urge you to brush up on the language before you repeat it again to me. Otherwise our next meeting may not be so pleasant. Now please, I would very much like that scotch so we can get down to business.”

 

Christoph relished the look of fear on Langley’s face. There were no direct threats uttered, both he and Asano knew that threats just made a man look weak. But all of the implications were there, and Christoph suspected that tonight would be the last time that Jerry Langley would ever utter a Japanese word to Asano Tadeshi again.

 

Jerry turned and left the booth the three men were occupying and went over to the bar. They were in the Cerulean Lounge that was situated in central Los Angeles. It was a place with a good atmosphere and one that Christoph could tolerate. It wasn’t full of bums and low lives where bar fights break out almost every night. It had a relaxing vibe to it.

 

The interior was decorated in a calming, deep blue colour with a touch of silver to give off a classy finish. Round tables draped with white cloths filled the vast space inside and leather seated booths lined the walls for people wanting a little more privacy. A huge chandelier made up entirely of thousands of sapphires hung from the ceiling just above the raised stage at the back of the lounge, drenching everything in puddles of blue every time the light hit it.

 

And the stage is where Christoph had had his attention focussed ever since they came in to the lounge earlier.

 

It was agreed that they would meet Jerry Langley here to discuss business matters that needed attention. But they also had an ulterior motive for choosing this particular place that only Christoph and Asano knew about. Asano was the person who would go through the business matters with Langley on behalf of their boss and hopefully come to a successful conclusion.

 

And Christoph would watch out for the man that they had come to observe. They didn’t know his name up until they saw the poster that was outside by the entrance when they had came in earlier. They didn’t know what he looked like either. All they knew about him from their contact was that, “ _he sings in the Cerulean Lounge some nights. Very nice voice, he could have made it big up here in Hollywood.”_

The lights in the lounge went down and the stage ones illuminated. The sapphire chandelier bathed everything in a soft blue hue; the small lamps on each of the now almost fully occupied tables closer to the stage came on turning everybody sitting at them into a dark silhouette.

 

The stage was occupied with an ivory grand piano which for the moment sat empty. Four African American men sat at the rear of the stage on silver podiums, in front of the blue and turquoise drapes that served as a backdrop. They all made up a small jazz band which consisted of four instruments, the double bass violin, two saxophones and one trumpet.

 

A young, pretty girl with a slim figure came on stage in a 1940’s showgirl outfit, the azure and silver diamonds that it was encrusted with sparkling brilliantly in the lights. She elicited more than a few wolf whistles from the males in the audience.

 

She stopped behind the old Shure classic vintage microphone that stood centre stage near the front.

 

“Ladies and gentlemen,” she announced through the mic. “Welcome to a night filled with jazz, swing and a whole lotta class here at the Cerulean Lounge!”

 

There was applause from the audience.

 

“And now may I present to you, singing such classics as _‘Anytime, Anywhere’, ‘You And I’_ and _‘Music Is Better Than Words’_ , with a voice as smooth as Sinatra himself and as positively melodic as Mr Martin, please welcome on stage, your singer for the night, the one and only, Mr Seth McAlvain!”

 

Christoph looked at Asano and left the booth swiftly as the man they had came to observe made his way on to the stage to a loud sound of applause and cheers.

 

Wollf silently made his way to an empty table close to the bar and a few rows back from the front of the stage. He turned off the lamp and bathed himself in shadow. He watched Langley make his way back to the booth with the drinks on a tray, whispering apologies whenever he got in someone’s view of the stage.

 

Asano could deal with Langley now and get the business sorted for the boss. Christoph now had a job to do, also given to him by the man in charge.

 

If Christoph had learned one thing from all of the jobs he’d done over the years, all of the heists he’d done all over the world, it was how to become invisible. He was a master at remaining unseen and undetected. He could blend into the environment around him so that a person wouldn’t even notice him until it was too late. He was like a spider. Seeing everything and not making himself known unless he wanted to.

 

The band on stage started up and Seth McAlvain began to sing. Christoph wasn’t a fan of jazz and swing music but there was no denying this man had talent. His voice was rich and smooth, deep and soulful, hitting every note perfectly. It was a voice that belonged to the swing era of the forties and fifties. It had an old and melancholic tone to it that was almost hypnotising. He agreed with what his contact had said in that he could have made it up in Hollywood, but perhaps not in this time period. In the Sinatra era, he could have been huge.

 

Christoph watched and listened from the shadows, going over the plan in his head to follow and keep surveillance on McAlvain after he left the lounge tonight.

 

The orders were to observe him for a couple of days and find out as much as they could about him.

 

Depending on what Christoph and Asano found out, they would either let him go and Seth McAlvain would be free to entertain for many more nights at the Cerulean Lounge.

 

If he was found out to be a possible threat however, then Seth McAlvain would sing no more.


End file.
